An Ultimate Choice
by Aldrian Kyrrith
Summary: Amanda chose to join the Q Continuum, but what if she chose the Federation instead?
1. Chapter 1

An Ultimate Choice

By Squirrelfang

I: Unexpected meetings

Amanda looked out of the transport vessel, her thoughts on what was to come and what she had left behind. It seemed like yesterday that the choice had been placed upon her, though it had been given months ago: to stay among humans, forever the abilities that marked her legacy, or to join the Q and start a new life among those who had executed her parents. Despite the temptations that the Q presented, however, she could never forgive them for what they had done, and she could never have joined them. She had convinced herself that she never would. Nor would she use the powers that marked her as one of them.

Her tenure with the Enterprise ended without any issues, which seemed to strike the Captain of the Vessel, Jean Luc Picard as rather peculiar. He would later say that he with Q aboard, he had expected some catastrophe to eventually have occurred, which made it all the more surprising that their mission passed without issue. Aside from her training onboard the Enterprise, there were none of these surprises whatsoever.

"We will be arriving at Earth in one half hour," announced the ship's pilot announced over the communicator, "Ready your selves."

Nevertheless, a number of pointed doubts remained in the back of Amanda's mind, gnawing at her like a thousand insects. If she were truly Q, how could she ever escape it? According to all records, they were eternal, possibly even immortal. This quality would clearly cast doubts upon her humanity, and possibly eventually isolate her from the mortals she would work with in the future. However, there were even more fearsome uncertainties then this. What if she couldn't control her powers in the absence of Q? How did she know that, if she were to drop her guard for the slightest moment, she would inadvertently create the destruction of an entire galaxy? Her spine froze for a moment. What if she already had?

No. If she allowed these thoughts to take hold on her, they would become reality. Her heritage all but guaranteed that. She had to focus on her new life. She had to get through the Academy, she had to do well, and she then had to get a position in Starfleet. She had to focus on such things, and most importantly, she had to leave her background as Q in the past

She had to.

"So, are you headed to Starfleet as well?"

Her head jerked up and she found herself looking at a young male, with short red hair and green eyes that almost seemed to sparkle when he smiled. He wore very flashy clothing which contrasted sharply to the unassuming wardrobe which she owned.

"Yeah," she answered. Though the young girl remained seated, deep down, she was very thankful that he had intruded upon her thoughts.

"You're not very sociable, are you?" he pressed on, "Well then, I guess I'll start out the introductions. My name is Ethan Welcher. May I inquire as to what yours may be?"

"Amanda Rogers," she answered, not sure what to make of his advancement. He was bold, without a doubt, and part of her suspected that her name was not the only thing the young man sought.

"Well. Amanda, I wish you luck in your academic pursuits. I've heard that the Academy could be quite tough for some people. I truly hope that you find no such difficulties."

"Really?" she replied, "I always found challenges to be a positive thing. To get past them, you have to put more effort into your work and, as a result, you will often get more satisfaction when you finally come to a solution."

He stammered, trying to find a reply, but all that came out in the end was, "Well, I guess you have a point there… Anyway, as I was saying, however…"

"Ethan," a third voice came in, "She's not interested, and I must say, that impresses me. I, for one, was never able to so easily avoid the web you spun for me a year ago."

She turned to face a second young woman, with long, somewhat unruly brown hair and brown eyes. She had a somewhat carefree spirit that shone in her face, though Amanda suspected that she could control it if she truly wished to.

"He's only after one thing you know," she warned, adding a wink at the end, "Boys. Is that all they think about?"

"I was not!" Ethan stammered, giving Amanda the impression that he looked rather like a fish out of water.

"Oh, come now, Ethan. There's no need to lie about such things. It only makes you look silly."

Ethan glared at her, growling her name with annoyance, "Serra…"

"So you remembered me?" she answered with sarcastic amusement, "I'm so honored."

She turned toward Amanda, smiling brightly, "Well, really, Ethan's not quite so bad once you get to know him. He does have his good points, few though they may be."

The boy glared at her, a bit embarrassed with her unexpected ramblings, though Amanda found herself unable to contain a chuckle.

"Well then, I guess you're not an emotionless robot after all," Serra pointed out noticing the other girl's mirth.

"No I'm not," Amanda replied, finally entering into the conversation, "I take it you two are cadets as well?"

Ethan nodded with surety while Serra's head bobbed with great enthusiasm. Amanda smiled, as her mind turned towards other, less strenuous topics then her Q heritage.

"It took me an extra year," Ethan professed, "Serra beat me by the slimmest of margins in my first attempt."

Serra grinned, her eyes shining with amusement as she turned towards Ethan, "Yes, you would say that, wouldn't you, considering how cocky you were in the first test, Ethan." She turned back towards Amanda, continuing, "Really, though, life in the Academy is not so bad. There are rules to follow, of course, but the classes aren't really that hard…"

Ethan turned towards Amanda, whispering, "When hearing her explanations, keep in mind that she's a genius even by Starfleet standards. Few are that gifted, and the vast majority of cadets perform far poorer than she…"

Serra beamed, "Thanks for the complement, but I don't think you need to worry about Amanda. I hacked into the Academy Records before the term ended…"

Ethan glared at Serra before adamantly responding, "Are you insane? You could have gotten expelled for such a thing!"

Serra turned towards Amanda with a cocky grin, "Isn't he so admirable? Worrying about my well being like that… However, I could only have gotten expelled if I got caught and, fortunately, I was not caught. You see, Ethan? There's nothing to worry about."

"But still… To do something that reckless; it's madness! And for what… Curiosity?"

Serra looked down to the floor as she answered, "To be honest, I don't quite know why I did it. Perhaps it was off a whim…"

"You hacked into an encrypted Starfleet database on a whim?"

Serra gave him a way too innocent smile, "Why not?"

He shook his head defeated, "You're insane…"

"But of course. Anyway, as I was saying before you so rudely interrupted me, I read up on all of the new recruits, and one of them really caught my eye. That person was you, Amanda. You need not worry for her sake, Ethan, worry for your own. Based on what I've read, I have the impression that she's quite a bit smarter then I am."

Ethan was silent, as Amanda breathed a sigh of relief. The moment that Serra had claimed to have read up on her, she had feared that perhaps the sophomore cadet had discovered her Q heritage. However, if she had done so, the girl was not speaking of it. Amanda was quite uneasy about the topic and thankful that it was not brought up.

Ethan cocked an eyebrow and turned towards Amanda, "That's pretty high praise. Well then, it looks like I might be seeking your help during the next term…"

"Sure…" Amanda answered, not quite sure what to say, and somewhat discouraged when Serra chuckled at the response.

"Don't mind me," Serra said when the other two turned their attention towards her, "We should be there soon anyway. I wish you both the best of luck."

Serra then collected her things and walked away, leaving Ethan and Amanda alone. He gathered his things and turned towards the exit. However, he changed his direction at the last minute and turned towards the young girl he had spoken, offering some last words of advice.

"Whatever you do, do not turn out like Serra. It will only lead you to trouble."

Amanda nodded sheepishly as he turned away and entered into another chamber. Realizing that they were arriving soon, Amanda also soon gathered her things and left. A last thought entered her mind before she left the waiting area though: what is to happen in the days ahead?


	2. First Day

II: Starfleet Academy

II: First Day

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek; it belongs to Paramount and co. I do not own any of the characters from any of the TV series, but all other characters are original and are mine. Please don't borrow them without permission.

>

Few took note of the eighteen year old woman who was among the last to depart the Transport Vessel and walk upon Terran soil. None could have guessed that she possessed and suppressed supernatural powers which exceeded anything they could possibly guess. Not even she imagined the choices that would await her in years to come.

Amanda Rogers had been born on Earth but her parents had died when she was still quite young. In fact, she only knew their faces through the help of Q during his teaching sessions on the Emterprise. For some reason, she suspected that she had not seen the last of him. If his goal had been to seduce her to the Q, she saw no reason to believe he would not give up so easily.

Orphaned, she had been raised by Starfleet Marine Biologists who were constantly on assignment, going from planet to planet like a Hermit Crab traded its shells. However, she had never before seen Earth in all her time among them, and from the moment she beamed down with the other travelers, she had found herself awestruck by the grandeur of the place.

Before her stood Starfleet Academy, the culmination of well over a decades' work of effort and dreams. She was left speechless as she realized the gravity of her achievement and what it actually symbolized. She approached the campus slowly, her mind filled with both anticipation and trepidation. This was what she had always dreamed of and worked for so why was she so nervous?

She walked through the campus in an awestruck state. Whether this reaction was caused by the glorious architecture that surrounded her or the sheer tradition that the institution embodied she could not tell. It was probably a mixture of both these factors as well as several more intangible ones.

Amanda finally ended her travels in the middle of a relatively large courtyard surrounded by grandiose buildings which possessed an almost Gothic quality about them. At the plaza's center towered a Pine Tree which, according to legend, had been planted to commemorate the launching of the USS Enterprise as commandeered by Kirk. As she looked at the tree, she briefly wondered what kind of man the legendary officer actually was. She had read about him in the history books, of course, but she had never met the man. Very few remained who ever had.

She then looked back at the walking path she had taken to get to this spot. The entire courtyard seemed so quaint compared to the rest of the Academy, which so effectively embodied the ideals that the Federation represented: growth and improvement. It seemed somewhat fitting that, in the center of this tribute to progress, their existed a small relic of the past.

At that moment, a flash of recollection crossed her mind. The Commencement Address! It would be given by the end of the hour. She quickly shook her head, somewhat annoyed to have forgotten such an important event, and turned from this, to some, idyllic courtyard and, with much haste, made her way back to the main part of the Academy.

Unfortunately, only teleportation or time manipulation would have assured her timely arrival and, unfortunately, she had given both of those options up when she had chosen to remain amongst the humans. However, she was quick enough not to merit anyone's notice, and found herself amongst a number of other stragglers who had failed to arrive on time.

The Commencement Speech was held in a large ampitheater that stood in the middle of the Academy campus, surrounded by an open field capable of fitting a great number of people within its confines. Because the Ampitheater had only limited space, there was a pair of large Viewers set up in the Field, allowing viewers to see that which was going on within.

Amanda found herself here, on the green, with her eyes on the nearest Viewer, watching the Academy's commandant, Admiral Russell Stetson, introduce the Guest Speaker, a prominent member of the Vulcan Science Academy, Professor Tanak. After a moment of silence, Tanak stepped to the podium and, with little show of emotion, began his speech.

"Greetings. My name is Tanak. For those of you who endeavor to follow my path in the realm of technological innovation, I hope you do well. Success does, after all, better us all. For those who desire to pursue a different path, whether it be commanding Starships or studying other cultures, I wish you luck as well. Though our interests may lie in different fields, I believe my words will be valuable for all of you to hear.

"You see, I will not be speaking to you today about current research in the fields of Warp Drives or Transporter Beams. Instead I will speak about a topic that will pertain to you all: a factor that you all should take into account. Efficiency…"

Amanda heard a number of groans from the others watching from the pavilion, as this decided topic greatly disinterested and bored a great number of them. From the corner of her eye, she even saw a small contingent of listeners get up and depart the grounds.

Tanak continued his speech in a long, drawn out manner, somehow finding ways to include logic based arguments when there was no need. It seemed to take closer to ten hours than the ten minutes which was its actual length. When the speech finally came to an end, a sigh of relief swelled from the entire pavilion, and everyone dispersed to go their separate ways.

Amanda herself, for the moment, did not have anywhere in particular to go. After all, the Freshman Barracks would not be opening until after another two hours had passed. In other words, she had two hours to do whatever she wished before moving into her new surroundings. She decided to travel down the pathways for a bit, and she was quite surprised when, an hour into her travels, a second individual crossed paths with her.

"Tanek's speeches can be so winded, can't they?"

Amanda turned around, surprised. She could have sworn she had been alone, and she was. She could not see another person at all. So who had spoken to her? As if on cue, a disheveled blonde headed man jumped down from one of the trees.

"Ta da," he announced, making a grandiose gesture, "Never thought to look for me up there?"

"Of course not," Amanda answered, not sure what to say about this hyperactive young man.

"So, I'm assuming you're one of the cadets. If you'd like, I'll be more than happy to show you around the place."

Amanda looked him over. He was tall, with a receding hairline, and a bit older then most of the cadets… as in a few decades. He was also wearing civilian clothes.

He suddenly laughed, presuming to answer a question before she could even raise it, "Now, I know what you were planning on asking, and I must say… it was a very good question."

"How could you know that?" Amanda asked suspiciously. The man paused, which seemed like a miracle. It had seemed that he possessed more energy then a supernova.

"Your expression," he finally staggered, "You know… easy to read emotions that way…"

"Right," she said.

"And also… well, it happens to be the first question almost anyone asks, so I was assuming you'd ask the same thing. My name's Quentin."

"Quentin," she repeated, quite overwhelmed.

"Quentin," he repeated, "And you are…?"

"Amanda."

"Amanda… it's a nice name. A friend of mine had a friend named Amanda. Isn't that a coincidence?"

Before she could say anything in response, Quentin cut her off by answering his own question, "Of course it is. We've been out of touch for a while though, so I haven't really been able to meet her. Quite disappointing actually. Anyway, I'm assuming you're a cadet…" He laughed, "After all, you're wearing a cadet's uniform, so there aren't many other explanations, are there?"

She nodded, "And I'm guessing you're not."

He paused, frowning. However, his body language shifted back into a positive light almost instantaneously, as he stepped around her, "Now, whatever gave you that idea? I guess that's really not any of my business. In answer to your question, yes. I'm not, actually, a cadet. I'm not a Starfleet Officer either."

"And yet you say you have intimate knowledge of the Academy's layout."

Quentin grinned, "Well, yes. It's a rather long story, filled with all sorts of unnecessary details and such. I doubt you'd find it interesting."

Amanda nodded, as she moved away from him, "Well, Quentin, I probably wouldn't. It was nice getting to know you, I guess."

Quentin smiled, "Yes, it was nice to meet you too, Amanda, and I wish you luck over the course of this year. If you need any help with anything, I live right here in San Francisco. You just have to look me up."

"Sure," Amanda said, increasing her distance from the eccentric who had been speaking at her for a few minutes now.

"The name's Quentin… Quentin Klelius."

Amanda nodded, "I'll be sure too."

Quentin nodded, and made a fluorescent bow. He watched as she eventually left his sight and smile. Q was right. She had spunk.

"And you doubted me."

"Q…" Quentin exclaimed, turning around to see the being who had harassed the Starfleet Captain Jean Luc Picard for years now, "My old friend, how nice to meet you again."

"I'm not your friend," Q answered.

"What? You're still upset about that little misunderstanding?"

Q glared at Quentin, "Misunderstanding? You got me kicked out of the Continuum!"

Klelius shrugged, "I got you back in, but I guess that doesn't mean anything to you, does it? Too busy gallivanting across the universe, wrecking everything we've achieved with your own selfish fancies."

"I might toy with other species, but at least I don't toy with my own kind…"

Klelius looked at Q, and gave an exasperated sigh, "Here we go again. You started it, you know. You and your twisted little games. You have only yourself to blame."

"I make a few mistakes and you see fit to throw me to the wolves."

Quentin laughed, "If I remember right, we sent you to the humans. Maybe we would have been better off sending you to wolves. Perhaps someone a bit less biased, after all, would have handled Amanda's situation a bit better. Giving her the same choice we gave her parents. I'd have thought you'd have realized the mistake."

Quentin fixed his eyes on Q, "Your fascination with Captain Picard clouded your judgement…"

"Now you're just making unfounded accusations."

Quentin turned his back to Q, "You gave Amanda a choice between us and humanity. However, you know as well as I, we can't allow other Q to run wild. Like you once did. And like you have allowed Amanda to. She will return to the Continuum. She must."

"And I assume that you're the one who got the assignment."

"Well, they couldn't choose you, could they? You already failed… and besides, you didn't exactly make the best impression."

"And you think you can make a better one."

Quentin turned around and shot the other omnipotent a furious look, "You worry about yourself. You're in enough trouble as it is. Let me worry about the rogue Q!" He sighed, "After all, I'm always the one cleaning up your messes."

And then, the two vanished in a flash of light.

>

Larissa Stevenson was the youngest of three. Her family had, historically, served as Starfleet officers, and she was only the latest in a number of recruits. Her eldest sibling, her brother Andrew, was a Starfleet archeologist, while her sister, Lana, had recently been promoted to the rank of Lieutenant aboard the USS Fletcher, commanded by Captain Alexis Wood. It had taken her two stressful attempts to finally pass the entrance exams, and follow in their footsteps. Now, her real journey was about to begin.

This was actually her first day ever in Starfleet Academy. Her parents were always on duty, and she had never even seen Earth before. All she had heard about the Federation's center were from the stories of her siblings and parents. After taking in the grandeur of the place, she found their claims were not exaggerated.

Despite her relative inexperience, however, she nevertheless felt fully prepared for the life that awaited her. In some ways, her entire life had been spent in preparation for this day. She was quite fit physically, skilled in the techniques of self defense, and was very knowledgeable in both the Federation's current diplomatic situation and the history that brought this into being. Her brown eyes shone with confidence, as if she had no doubt to the fortunes her future would bring.

She looked at the crowd before her as it eagerly awaited Tanak's concluding points. Starfleet cadets were chosen from all over the Quadrant, and there were only a handful that truly knew each other prior to their acceptances. She, for one, did not fit into that handful.

Larissa, herself, had never bothered to listen to Tanak's remarks. One of the first things her siblings had taught her about the Academy was that its first day, orientation, was largely meaningless. However, she did recognize the end of the Commencement Address, based on the collective sigh that erupted from the audience around her. Andrew had claimed that, in his first year at Starfleet, the address was quite fascinating. Larissa, at this singular moment in time, found herself wondering who gave that earlier address.

She quickly rose from her grass laden seat and followed the crowd as it dispersed into every direction. Different people had different plans to entertain and different outlooks to satisfy. She, herself, was planning on spending the next few hours in the library, doing all that she could in preparation of her future courses. The success of her siblings loomed as an ever-present specter on her mind and she refused to find failure where they had once found success.

>

He was not surprised to find her missing. He was not pleased about the news, but he was not surprised. She really had to learn restraint if she didn't want to end up expelled, or worse. Perhaps she wanted misfortune. He shook off the thought immediately, knowing the truth quite well. It was not that she held such desires. She merely had no common sense whatsoever.

He had met her during the Orientation a year ago, Serra Caranis, and had been instantly drawn to her. Naiton didn't exactly know what it was that attracted him to her but he was certain that she did not feel anything for him. It left him disappointed much of the time, sometimes even depressed, but he kept his feelings to himself, not wanting to ruin the friendship they had gradually built.

It was the first day of the Academy's calendar year. It was a day that the cadets, First Years through seniors, spent huddled together, listening to the pedantic preaching of a random Federation intellectual celebrity. Sometimes the speeches were interesting, but usually they were as unsatisfying as the options on a Ferengei menu. He remembered last year's speech, given by a Starfleet admiral. He was hoping for something exciting and memorable, but instead, he found himself struggling to stay awake through an unnecessarily long championing of the Chain of Command. As if he didn't understand the merits of such a system. This year's speech was even more colorless.

Attendance to the Address was mandatory. Serra, of course, had been resolute in her opinion that their position was impossible to execute given the sheer numbers of cadets, but he was never a risk taker. Unfortunately, she was, and he could only imagine what she was doing. Knowing her, she could be taking a joyride in a stolen Runabout, hacking into Starfleet Computer Systems, or something even more extreme. She was going to get herself caught eventually. It was inevitable and he knew it. He suspected that, deep down, she knew it too. Nevertheless, she never let such prospects impede her. He doubted she was truly that attached to a Starfleet career anyway.

He finally watched as Tanak finished his speech, signaling that the Starfleet cadets were free to do as they wished. He jostled and pushed his way past the other trainees, and was soon one of the first out of the stadium. Once he broke free, he increased his pace, breaking into a run.

He knew that she would get herself expelled one day, or worse. However, he couldn't accept this knowledge, and so he was determined to do everything he possibly could to prevent it. He only hoped that he wouldn't be forced to sacrifice his own dreams to do so.

>

For her own part, Serra Caranis was not stealing a Runabout, hacking into computer systems, sneaking into Starfleet headquarters to search through classified information, or anything else Naiton might have feared. She should have known he would harbor suspicions the moment she decided to skip out on the opening day festivities. She had met Naiton Lang during last year's Commencement Address and, after sharing a few classes together, the two became close friends. She could tell that he did not approve many of her decisions, viewing them as reckless, but she paid his insecurities little heed. He did not have any more right to control her life than she had to control his. Thus, she decided to skip the odious Commencement Address this year, and spend her time walking around the campus, thinking about what she would do with her life.

Nothing truly held her interest, aside from making trouble. She wasn't disciplined enough to find something to dedicate herself to. At least that's what her professors professed, a view mirrored by Naiton. However, neither the professors nor her friend understood the true reality of her outlook. It wasn't her lack of discipline that created her disinterest but, rather, her disinterest that created her lack of discipline. When there weren't any subjects she particularly cared for, she didn't place much effort in her work. The thrill of one day traveling on a Starship might have been the only thing keeping her in the Academy whatsoever.

Nevertheless, she was willing to accept their judgment. She had done nothing in her first year to suggest she was willing to dedicate herself to anything beyond her constant search for gratification. She had done nothing to prove that she was anything more than an out of control id. She had not done anything to prove that her aspirations to Starfleet were truly honest and how could she? There had always been something about deep space that had intrigued her. The spontaneity of life, the beauty of a nebula… perhaps her problem was that she had been too much the idealist, and ever since she had arrived at the Academy, she had only experienced a love of procedure and a championing of the status quo. Nevertheless, in her heart, she still believed it was out there. Something pure, something she could dedicate her life to. She just had to find it.

Which brought her back to the young girl she had met a few days before, on the Transport Ship. There was something intriguing about her: Amanda Rogers. She couldn't quite put her finger on it but, as she walked beneath the wispy clouds of the Terran atmosphere, she decided she would have to get to know the young first year over the approaching semester. Something told Serra that there was a lot more to her than met the eye.


	3. Freshman

III: Freshman

The Q Continuum was in a state of chaos, a relatively abnormal phenomenon for the Q. Regarded as responsible was one of the most chaotic of all Q. So unruly was he, in fact, that he had once even been stripped of his powers. They had thought he had redeemed himself, changed his colors, and become respectable at last. They were wrong, but they did not realize it until things were too late.

And now the Continuum had fallen into a discordant confusion. He had done the unthinkable once again: let a Q run lose, unchecked, throughout the universe. It was a transgression almost as unforgivable as his decision to add a human to the Continuum. It was almost as unforgivable as the desires of another wayward Q: a former luminary who wished for death. Even now, the Q were desperately trying to rectify the problem, pulling together the infinite threads of dimension and time, trying to read into the future, to find the opportunity to bring her back.

A Q was a Q. One could be nothing else.

L

The automatic doors parted in front of the young Academy cadet. She stepped through them, and into the Freshman Barracks. It had finally opened an hour before, and there was already a sizable number of people gathered within.

The interior of the lodgings were, not surprisingly, quite stark. There was a long hallway, lined with automatic doors, which winded down to a turbolift at the far end. This turbolift, according to rumors, was the only modern technology that the barracks employed. Asides from it, the Academy functioned almost on a Twentieth Century scale. There were no holodecks, no replicaters, nor any of the other amenities that people had grown accustomed to. Starfleet thought these deprivations built character and instilled in its cadets a degree of self reliance. Most of the cadets viewed these conditions as inconveniences; or worse.

Her own room was located on the fourth floor, she remembered, as she stepped through the crowd, trying her best to ignore the conversations that were swirling around her. Some voices spoke of their expected coursework, while others focused on extracurricular activities, and more than a few partook in idle rumors and gossips. She noticed that quite a few boasted about their parents' exploits, or their siblings, believing these achievements spoke well about themselves.

Of course, she did not share in those illusions. If her nature was correlated to the actions of her kin, what did that say about her: she who was, for all intents and purposes, related to demons? As such, she was not one to bring up the Starfleet records of her adopted parents, and definitely not one to bring up the topic of her biological ones. They had been killed by the Q because they couldn't stop caring.

Amanda stepped into the turbolift and requested that it take her to the fourth floor. The machine, as it was programmed to, complied and, moments later, the doors had opened, to reveal the floor on which her room was located. It was almost a mirror image of the one she had just passed through: a long corridor with rooms lined up symmetrically on either side, and crowds of peoples were leaning against the walls, engaging in speculation and chatter.

She stepped out into the fourth floor hallway and approached the third room on the right: room 403-K. She stood in front of it for a few minutes, not sure what she would find within. She had never been in Military Barracks before. She had never had a roommate before. In essence, she had no idea what to expect and that made her a bit nervous. However, standing outside a door, wondering about what she would find within, was pointless. Chiding her foolishness, she turned her attention to a small panel by the door. She pressed one of the buttons and the automatic doors opened before her. She stepped through them.

Her roommate had not yet arrived. She could tell that much from the moment she entered the room. It was almost completely empty. There were two wooden beds, neither of which appeared particularly sturdy, a pair of dressers and a pair of desks, each of which stood in opposite halves of the room. Tucked into the desks were wooden chairs and on top of the desks were electronic lamps. It was all very twentieth century she noted. Starfleet was very particular when it came to following through on their decisions.

She looked at the room for a moment, planning for the future. It was up to the occupant to fill the room. That had been true in the past and it was true in the future and, now that she had an idea of the proportions and layout of the room, she had an idea just how much she could fit in it. She was about to ask the computer for the time, but paused, as she remembered there was no computer here. She chided herself on the mental error and then turned back towards the door.

"This is going to be a long year."

L

Preparation is the first step to success. It was a lesson that had been drilled into her by her parents. Larissa Stevenson stepped into the same Freshman Barracks that had sheltered her parents, her brother and her sister years before. She hoped she would have the same success as they did, but underneath her hope, there existed a subconscious fear of failure.

She stepped through the automatic doors with her head held high and her eyes blazing with confidence. Her eyes passed over the throng that had gathered in the corridor but she paid them little heed. As she walked past them, a number of individuals noticed her confidence and suspected that she would have a sparkling career. Only a few noticed that her entire demeanor was somewhat forced.

In a few moments, she came to the Turbolift and stepped into it.

"Fourth Floor," she ordered and, wordlessly, the machine obeyed. A few moments later, the doors reopened and she walked the rest of the way, eventually stopping at her room: 403-K. She stepped in front of the door, and activated its entrance command. In moments, the doors separated and she stepped through them.

It seemed that her roommate had already arrived, and she suspected that the other woman had done so quite a while ago. In fact, she had already gone to the Replicaters, a decision that showed an initiative that few her age possessed. Larissa looked at her own half of the room, which she suspected was stark enough for a Classical Spartan to complain about, before looking back at her roommate's side of the room. She had taken a rather modest approach to her room, an approach which Larissa rather appreciated. There was nothing particularly extravagant or gaudy in the room. It seemed rather unassuming. Based on this evidence, superficial as it was, Larissa believed she was already getting a good picture of the woman's character, and she suspected it was one well suited for Starfleet.

She turned her back to the room as she stepped back in the corridor, into the Turbolift, and ordered it to return her to the first floor. She was soon stepping out of the Barracks and making her way to the Replicaters.

L

Amanda's eyes glazed over the printed readout. The book she had in her hand was an old one, written when all books were printed on paper, but it was one she rather enjoyed reading still: Watership Down. It was about a group of rabbits whose homes had been destroyed by developers and were searching for a new one. She sighed, like her they were searching for a new life. While she knew how their story ended, however, she still could not even guess how hers would.

Her concentration was broken when she sensed another presence. True, she could not use her abilities, but they were still there and the more passive ones continued to activate on their own accord: a constant reminder of what she actually was and a constant temptation to be more than what she had chosen to be.

She scolded herself. God, she was sounding like Q now! No, the Q may be more powerful than anything she had ever experienced but that did not make them superior. Still, as much as she hated the callousness in which they treated mortal suffering and, on a personal nature, the heartless execution of her parents, she still found herself wondering what would have happened had she accepted. It was part of being human, Picard would say, the drive of curiosity that had allowed them… no, us… to reach such great heights.

She had little time, however, to continue this train of thought, as the automatic doors opened to reveal her future roommate, holding a large canvas bag beneath one arm. The other woman was tall, dark haired, and dark eyed. Amanda looked into those eyes briefly, sensing a great deal of inner turmoil in the other woman's psyche. She was under pressure from her past and was defining herself through her actions. Amanda closed her eyes, knowing all too well what would happen if the other woman was to fail.

All this happened in the span of seconds, but that was all it took to give Amanda a first impression. She put the book down on her bed and rose to meet the other girl.

"My name's Amanda Rogers," she greeted, "It's nice to meet you."

"Larissa Stevenson," the second woman replied before going over to the desk and pulling a large notebook from her bag and placing it squarely on the desk before her, "I hope we get along well this year."

"Me too," Amanda replied as Stevenson finished unpacking and then returned from whence she came. Tomorrow their courses would begin.

Amanda watched as Stevenson departed the room, heading off towards the library. Larissa was under great pressure, mostly self-imposed, to pass and she was determined to find success.

Deep down, she feared that her determination might not be enough.


	4. Conversing on gods

IV: Conversing on gods

Kyran Stann sheltered himself in the depths of the library, where he could be alone; with his books and with his thoughts. He read through the familiar stories, hoping to escape from the torture that life provided him day in and day out. Sometimes, he questioned why he had even come to the Academy but, in the end, he knew the reason. He needed discipline and he had hoped that he could find this discipline at Starfleet. Whether he hadn't put enough effort into this goal or whether he never had a chance to succeed in the first place he couldn't guess. However, at the moment, he didn't entertain either possibility. He only read. It was only in his own mind that he could truly find his peace.

Unfortunately, his peace was fleeting as he finished the final book and looked up towards the ceiling. He had come here to try to erase his problems but instead the academy had only exasperated them. Perhaps he never should have left Betazoid in the first place. At least they, to some extent, understood what he was going through. At least they knew how dangerous telepathy could be.

Kyran Stann took his eyes off of the computer terminal and walked up the stairs, finally stopping in front of a turbolift. He stepped inside it and patiently waited to reach the surface. There was a reason he was so patient about it, however. He was not looking forward to reaching his destination.

Nevertheless, his journey ended too soon and, as he stepped out of the library's doors, the thoughts of thousands assailed him like untold daggers, digging into his mind and throwing him into nausea. He stopped to catch his breadth, hoping the break would stop his head from spinning. It had been almost twenty years now, but in all that time, the sensation had never dulled.

He was a Betazed prodigy, telepathic for as long as he remembered. For all his life he had suffered from this affliction, forced into a living hell from which there seemed no escape. He laughed in spite of himself: to think he had once believed that discipline could cure this problem. Already a second year and he still was plagued by his problems. In many ways, it was only worse now. At least on his home planet, the others understood.

Here he was: the weirdo; incapable of forging any responsibilities, always hiding in the library on his own. True, nobody said as much to his face but they didn't need to. He heard thoughts like humans heard words and, unlike words, thoughts were always honest. He read through the half truths and lies weaved by Federation values right to the core of their beliefs.

He was an outcast. He was something to be loathed, to be pitied or to be condemned. He was not someone to be respected. True, there were more than a few who thought differently. In fact, these fit into the majority of cadets. However, it didn't matter. Their thoughts never stood out as strongly as those who did. He rushed through the crowd, knowing it would only heighten the antagonism that seemed to constantly bombard him. He had to be alone. He always had to be alone.

It was only then that he could find his peace.

L

"So, do you think she'll ever see reason?"

Ethan looked from the dinner tray and sighed, "You know Nait, if you really are so concerned, perhaps you should stop complaining and talk to her yourself."

Ethan shook his head as Naiton Lang was unable to answer. Naiton, Amanda and himself were all taking Exochemistry together this year, and they were already becoming close friends. Nevertheless, Ethan could not help but disapprove of Naiton's infatuation with Serra Caranis. Though he, himself, counted her as a friend, he knew that her impetuous nature could only get her in trouble. It was more than likely that, when that day came, Nait would be dragged down with her.

Ethan turned away for a moment, and watched as a blonde haired freshman approached their table, tray in hand. "Amanda, over here!" he called and the young woman nodded in recognition and took her seat at the same table.

"So, did I miss anything?" she asked.

"Nait was obsessing over Serra again," Ethan stated matter-of-factly.

"No surprise there," Amanda replied sarcastically.

"Am I the only one who cares about my friends' well being?" Nait interjected loudly, though his defense was somewhat undermined by the reddish tinge building on his face.

Ethan sighed, "Nait, take it easy. Serra's an intelligent woman and I'm sure she doesn't need you worrying about her. Besides, we both know that no matter what you did, there's no way you could stop her."

Nait wanted to argue but, deep down, he knew that Ethan was right. Much as he wished otherwise, Serra just couldn't be controlled. Finally, in a plaintive tone, he asked, "Is there anything we can do?"

Ethan shook his head, "Only trust her; I imagine."

However, both men suspected that such sentiments would not be enough.

L

Amanda stepped out of the cafeteria, into the dry, evening air. She looked up at the sky, calmly, her thoughts on her parents and the ever present temptation their heritage had cursed her with. It was a temptation she could never give into but, deep in the depths of her soul, she suspected that, one day, something unexpected would happen and, in the end, her promise would be broken. She remembered when she and Q had first made that agreement. It had only been a few months now since she had arrived on the Enterprise, but already those days seemed like an eternity ago. Back when everything was innocent, before she harbored the secrets and responsibilities which omnipotence brought.

The words, "Hey Amanda," interrupted her train of thought. She turned around to find Ethan grinning at her, "Nait and I are going to the gym. Do you want to come along?"

Amanda shook her head, "Sorry. Another time, perhaps, but I just got an essay assigned for interspecial planetary ethics and I figured I should get to the library ASAP and begin research."

"An essay?" Ethan asked, truly surprised, "This early?"

"It's frontloaded," Nait replied in Amanda's defence, "I took it last year."

Ethan shook his head, "I see. Well Amanda, I wish you luck, I'm sure you'll do fine. I never figured you for such a workaholic though."

"Not really," Amanda disagreed, "However, I would like to finish this essay before it was due. This was never one of my strongest fields, you know, so I can't exactly wait until the last minute. You know?"

"I guess you have a point," Ethan agreed, "Anyway, until next time."

Amanda nodded and watched for a moment as the two men departed before turning around and beginning the walk to the library. She shook her head, questioning why she had decided to take a course in planetary ethics. What had she been thinking? Originally, she had wanted to fully explore her options to find what truly interested her. Looking back on it, she couldn't help but suspect that her decision was, in the end, a mistake.

"Someone's looking rather predisposed. Well Amanda, if there's anything I can do to lighten up your day, please let me know."

She turned around, recognizing the speaker immediately. "Quentin, I didn't expect to see you so soon. After all, I had thought you weren't a cadet."

"Unfortunately, I'm not," Quentin replied, shaking his head emphatically. He moved closer to her, "Nevertheless, I do happen to know that the Academy's library houses one of the most complete collections of literature and studies in the entire Alpha Quadrant… Why, I'd have to go to Klingon Imperial Library on Qo'noS to find a collection that comes close in terms of size and, well… to be honest, all they've got is epic poetry about one warrior or another."

"Let me guess," Amanda replied, "You're not a fan of epic literature…"

Quentin shook his head, "Never was into fighting and well, Klingon literature is only about conquest and destruction. It's quite repetitive, if I do say so myself, and more than a bit distasteful. Though I must say, Homer has always fascinated me. The way he portrays the Olympian gods has never ceased to intrigue me. Now there was a poet."

He paused, as he took a few steps closer, looking skyward, almost amazed at the cosmos, "So powerful, the way Poseidon is able to completely overwhelm Odysseus on his homeward journey. The way Athena is able to imbue hope in Telemachus and quell the suitors once and for all. Homer had a real knack for revealing the limitations that us, as mortal human beings, will eternally possess. Have you ever thought and, just for a moment, wondered what life would be like as Zeus, or Poseidon, or Athena… or Artemis or any of the other Greek gods?"

Amanda was silent for a moment as she considered what he had said, "You are remarkably well read, Mr. Klelius…"

"Thank you," Quentin replied proudly, "I've always been rather proud of my intellect. Try to get a taste of everything, broaden my horizons and reach my full potential. It's an admirable trait, don't you think?"

"Nevertheless, your characterization of the Greek pantheon isn't entirely accurate. You characterize them as truly omnipotent when in reality, they were relatively limited in comparison to the later conceptions."

"Really?" Quentin replied, his interest piqued, "I didn't know you read the classics as well…"

Amanda blushed for a moment. She had read the works of Virgil and Homer only recently, after discovering her true abilities. Deep down, she figured that reading how others conceived of the divine might help her to better adjust to finding herself with the kind of abilities often associated with such divinities.

"However, you don't know that much about me."

"True," Quentin conceded, "Nevertheless, I am quite interested in hearing your opinions."

Amanda was silent for a moment before she replied, "The Greek gods are not omnipotent. Zeus could not save his son Sarpedon when the Fates saw fit to cut his string, and the goddess Aphrodite herself was once wounded by a mortal, Diomedes."

Quentin responded by staring at her with newfound respect. He stammered a bit, trying to find the words to voice a response, "You're speaking of events from the Illiad!"

"It's as Homeric as the Odyssey, isn't it?"

Quentin shook his head, "But it's like those Klingon epics. War, killing, looting, pillage! Where's the adventure, where's the romance? Where's the epic journey to strange new worlds: the wonder inherent in the voyage itself? The Odyssey is a story of life but the Illiad… well, it's a story of death."

Amanda shook her head, "You know, you are impossible to converse with…"

"It's only because you don't agree with my ideas," Quentin pointed out, "If you weren't so stubborn…"

"Divinity isn't all its cracked up to be," she answered sharply and then walked off towards the library, leaving Quentin alone to ponder his next plan. He had to break through to the young Q sometime. The Continuum did not like the settlement Q had arranged and neither did he. Really, what were they thinking when they gave that former outcast such an important responsibility?

"He still makes my job difficult," Quentin, grumbling, said to no one in particular as he turned around and stepped back into the shadows.

A/N: I apologize for the Homeric content to those that haven't read the epics and didn't get the references. However, to be honest, I've always been a bit of a mythology geek and I figured that a confrontation over the nature of the Greek gods would be a symbolic manifestation of the struggle that Amanda is going through, trying to distance herself from her Q heritage. In affect, Quentin is trying to goad her into joining the Continuum and she is trying to separate herself from it. This argument is symbolic of this external struggle, even if she herself does not yet realize it. Thank you, please RR and, if you have any questions, feel free to post them.


	5. A Meeting of Outcasts

V: A Meeting of Outcasts

Amanda Rogers stepped into the Starfleet Library, which housed much of the Federation's original documents, as well as many of the major reports and studies that one could otherwise only find on a starship computer. She walked down the steps very slowly, her eyes scanning the towering stacks of datapads and old books; antiques in her current day and age.

She finally came to a stop at the base of the steps and walked towards one of the consoles, seeking out information concerning where she could find documentation correlating to Intraspecial Planetary Ethics, primarily on the Prime Directive and its initial genesis. She was, after all, writing an essay on the topic.

"Can I help you?" one of the librarians asked. Amanda turned towards the speaker, a tall, almost gaunt woman, with short, graying hair and narrow glasses, and responded with a nod.

"Yes, I'm looking on information concerning the Prime Directive and its initial adaptation."

The librarian smiled, "You're not the first who has come in with that question."

Amanda blushed. Of course, it was not the most original project, but neither was it one of her strong points. Considering her relatively poor talent in the field, she figured it would have been best to take on an easily researchable and entirely writable project.

"Nevertheless," the librarian continued, "It's a perfectly respectable one. Why, I remember when I first came here, I had written on that very same topic. Well, to answer your question, it's in the basement. Watch your step though, it can be a long way down if you trip on the stairs."

Amanda nodded, "Thank you, miss."

"Of course," the librarian replied.

The librarian watched as the young woman departed, questioning whether or not she should warn her about the eccentric, and somewhat creepy, young Betazoid who frequented the library all hours of the day, enjoying his own solitude. However, before she could open her mouth, the young woman had already left, heading to find her material. The librarian couldn't fully stifle the smile that was forming on her lips. Let her find out for herself.

L

Kyran Stann was seated in the library basement, reading, his thoughts, for the moment at least, his thoughts alone and his sanity, for the moment, temporarily intact. He couldn't help but notice the pitiable irony of the situation. Do to his advanced telepathy, it seemed he could only maintain his mental stability by partaking in potentially antisocial behavior. The Betazoids had called his telepathy a gift but he knew the truth of it. It was a curse.

He was content in his depression. It was the only emotion which he knew for sure was his own. Unable to cipher other people's thoughts from his own, other people's ideas from his own, he relished the one emotional state which he knew, with certainty, was his own. In his despair, it was all he felt nowadays. He remembered that that had not always been the case, but, as the years crept by and his afflictions continued to increase, his despair grew. Furthermore, he knew, without a doubt, that there was no way for him to ever attain normalcy. He had come to Starfleet Academy on a fool's hope, grasping for one last chance of sanity. His last attempt had failed like all his others and he was left broken. Broken and alone.

He didn't even notice her until, stepping backwards to retrieve a discarded datapad, he bumped into her, knocking her backwards a few steps. He turned around, surprised that he had not sensed anything from the stranger. Indeed, standing behind him, picking up the PADs he had knocked to the ground was a young woman, not much younger than himself, with somewhat long blonde hair and, if he did say so himself, quite an attractive face. However, what really struck him was her mind. He could not read anything from her. However, as she turned to face him, their eyes locked and, for just one moment, he felt as if those eyes could see right into the very depths of his soul.

He stammered for a moment, trying to enunciate the various thoughts, hopes and fears that were running through his mind at the moment. There was someone he couldn't read. How or why he could not know but, for the first time in years, he could sense a faint hope rising in him. However, his hope plummeted as he listened to his mouth give voice to his thoughts in a single, disastrous statement.

"Who… what are you?"

Amanda stared at him, her eyes wide in shock and her body poised in anxiety. Still, he could sense nothing from her. He could hear nothing from her. However, her eyes clearly showed a high degree of alarm and trepidation. There was something unique about her, that much he could tell immediately. However, what that something was, and why she was hiding it, was something which he could only guess.

Before he could elaborate on that rather crude, and overall disturbing statement, she had recovered herself and her sense of calm remained. After a period of thought, the young woman answered his question with a second question.

"What do you mean?"

Kyran scratched his head for a moment, hoping to find some way to recover himself. He knew very well his effect on people, and if he screwed this opportunity up, he doubted he'd ever be able to recover. At last, he had found someone he could communicate with without losing control of his own faculties. He had to make a positive first impression. He admitted that such desires were more than a bit selfish but, in all honesty, life itself is a quality which demands selfishness to survive.

"I… well, I'm sorry," he replied, "I didn't mean anything by that. It's just… well…" once again, he felt as if he was being read by a telepath of a level he couldn't even comprehend. It was a highly irrational thought, really, but, nevertheless, it existed. In speaking with her, he couldn't help but feel as if she was viewing his every thought, hope, aspiration and fear. He felt as if she was reading all of his dreams and all of his memories. He felt as if she was boring into his mind and examining his very soul. Finally, he was able to finish his remark, "It's just that I've been under a lot of pressure as of late. I'm sorry if I caused you any discomfort, I didn't mean to…"

"It's all right," she assured him, "I can tell you've been going through some difficult times. In fact, your mind almost appears to be in chaos…"

"You know a lot about my mental state," Kyran noted suspiciously, his wild impressions that she could read his mind beginning to gain conspiracy.

"But of course, it's written all over your face," she turned away from him and, departing, stated, in an ebullient tone of voice, "You're not the only one who is facing some kind of serious pressure in your life. I would suggest you get some help. If you don't, it can only get worse."

She turned around, a bright glint in her eye, "Don't give up. I'm sure that whatever's been bothering you, I doubt its as hopeless as you think."

L

"She will crack soon and embrace her power," Quentin stated, though in his mind, he was not entirely sure he was correct.

"If you recall, we said the same exact thing about her parents. Well, they did give in eventually, but you know very well what happened to them."

"You know, considering your own transformation from human to Q, you are showing a very pessimistic attitude."

"Yes," Q agreed, "But I had been a Q, I wanted to be a Q, and could see little value in being anything other than Q."

"Now, you know as well as I that such sentiments are not entirely true. If you do see value only in the Q, why is it that you are so insistent on playing your little games?"

"As if I'm the only one who bothers playing games? Your sophistry is merely a bunch of hypocritical nonsense."

"If you say so," Quentin stated, "But I never claimed to be so selfish in my sentiments. Ignoring this little disagreement, however, you cannot deny that in the end, you returned to us willingly and were glad to be transformed… well, I guess you can deny it, but then I'd have to strip you of your powers again, which would be quite good for me so do go ahead and deny it."

Q smirked, "Unfortunately, I've always had a penchant for disappointing you so, I'm sorry, but I'll have to decline. Nevertheless, you are being overly optimistic in your appraisal of Amanda. If you recall, I was the one that gave her the test in the first place."

"Yes, and what have you done since then? I have watched her, conversed with her, charted her progress. Trust me, she will join us."

Q regarded Quentin for a moment and then grinned, "You really care about her, don't you? How cute, you have emotions after all."

"Nonsense. That would be most unQ-like of me."

"Perhaps," Q observed, "But the very fact that you partake in this senseless self deception suggests otherwise. You care about our friend Amanda and you are even deluding yourself of the reality of the situation in order to protect your feelings. Tell me, what would you do if you were called to execute her?"

Q leaned in closer, "Would you execute her? Or would you defy the Continuum and let her escape. You know they'd find her eventually, and you know she'll die. There can be no defiance to the Continuum, not even from a Q. Surely you know this, and surely you realize that her pride won't allow her to entertain other options. Humans are adaptable and fascinating creatures but they are obstinate to a fault. She will not change her mind, Quentin. Not this late in the game."

Quentin sighed and shook his head, "She will not die, Q."

"Really," Q asked, leaning closer to the other omnipotent being, "And would you be willing to defy the Continuum to protect her?"

Quentin was silent for a moment as he considered the problem. In the end, he gave his response in a single word, "Yes."

Q nodded, "Very well. However, I do hope it won't come to that."

"Neither do I," Quentin agreed as he vanished back into normal space. Q watched him depart, in a rather good mood.

"Because if you do run afoul of the Continuum, I'll have a debt to pay and I'll be sure to repay it."

And then the other Q was gone as well.

L

A/N: Thanks for the reviews.

Lilith Kayden: You made some very insightful comments in your last review. Congratulations. To be honest, I wasn't completely sure about adding Boothby into the mix (to be honest, I don't quite know enough about him), but in the case of Kyran Stann, you were spot on in your prediction. Nice job and congratulations.


	6. Crossroads

VI: Crossroads

Larissa Stevenson looked over the text, trying to memorize every detail. She was still in the beginning of her freshman term at the Academy, and things were already not going quite as planned. She had barely passed her first exam in "History of the Federation" and was barely keeping out with the lectures which constituted the bulk of her most difficult course, "Philosophy of the Prime Directive". The only class she was doing fairly well in at all was "Intermediate Warp Theory" though, even then, her grades were only mediocre. Not excellent.

She had been hoping to graduate near the top of her class and, before coming here, was quite confident she would. Now, the young cadet found herself questioning whether she would graduate at all. She shook her head, chiding herself about her foolishness. There was no room for second guessing and self doubt. She was failing because she wasn't working hard enough. That's it, she told herself. That had to be it. With her hollow self assurances, she entered a new Search Query into the Library Mainframe and returned to cramming.

It was how she had spent almost every night since she the first week had ended. Convinced was Larissa that she had to pass. Failure just wasn't an option.

L

Professor Lorraina McAdams stepped into the classroom, and looked at her class as it waited; the future faces of Starfleet. There had once been a time when she had occupied the role of student, working with the past and embracing the future. Now, she occupied the role of instructor, working with the future and embracing the past.

"So, before we begin today's lessons, I have a simple question for you all? Do any of you know anything about a civilization known as the Iconians? If so, can any of you make a guess at why they place such a big role in the study of Intraspecial Planetary Ethics?"

No one was willing to venture a guess, McAdams observed. Very typical. She nodded, "Clarence Ruthgoe. You haven't spoken much in past discussions? Perhaps you'd be interested in venturing a guess."

The young man rose as he searched for an answer. In the end, he could find nothing to say. The professor sighed, "Thank you anyway, Mr. Ruthgoe. Please take a seat. I know that you're primary field of study lies in engineering, but if you're going to take this class, I would suggest you put more effort into it in the future. The Hard determinists were wrong, how much you achieve in life is fully up to you."

"Yes sir," he nodded and returned to his seat, visibly relieved.

She looked across at the rest of the room, somewhat disappointed but not entirely surprised. Ruthgoe had not been putting too much effort into the course and she had seen that ever since she had gotten the results to the class's first quiz. He was barely maintaining a passing average, and she had little doubt that such had been his main goal all along. Perhaps, she should turn her attention towards a more accomplished student.

"Terrence Cawley. What can you tell us about the Ancient Iconians? Based on the surrounding mythology and present day theory, what importance do they hold when studying this course and why is their example so important when looking at the Prime Directive you will all be sworn to serve one day?"

Cawley paused for a moment before answering, "The Iconinans… Well, for one thing, the myths called them Demons of Ice and Fire. They expanded from the Neutral Zone, and built a very powerful empire, before ultimately being destroyed by those they ruled over."

"Well said," McAdams nodded her approval, "The Ancient Iconians possessed a technology even beyond that which we now possess. However, they were destroyed because they abused that knowledge. The Prime Directive tells us not to interfere in the dealings of the less advanced civilizations of the galaxy. The Iconians give us a reasonable example of those civilizations that do otherwise, and the potential consequences for such actions. Thank you, please sit back down."

"Yes sir," he nodded but before McAdams could continue, she noticed out of the corner of her eye, that someone did not entirely agree with her previous statement. She was instantly intrigued. The young woman did not say much in class, but on the rare occasions she did speak, there was almost always something compelling to be heard.

"Miss Rogers, I can see you don't entirely agree with this interpretation. Well, what do you have to say on this matter?"

"Ancient Iconia existed thousands of years before the Federation, or any of the nations it currently interacts with, were formed. All we know about them are interpretations based on myth. When dealing with them, it is impossible to know anything for sure at our current level of advancement. For example, there is a second interpretation that the Ancient Iconians could have just as easily been relatively peaceful, and were attacked out of jealousy. In fact, taking this theory into account, we find it just as plausible that the Iconian civilization was highly isolationist rather than expansionist. In short, by taking this assertion instead, you can say that the Iconian example could just as well embody a warning against Prime Directive-type philosophies as one pointing towards it."

McAdams nodded, taking in what Amanda had said. There was some sense to it, "Very perceptive, Amanda. However, if you were to make that argument, you'd have to relegate all of our current knowledge concerning Iconia as false. Though it is definitely true that the winners write the history, that does not make their accounts necessarily true or false. As such, it seems more constructive, from our own point of view, to view the Iconians in the more traditional light then with the newer, more radical viewpoint. Do you understand?"

She shook her head, "That does not change the fact that we cannot entirely tell which version is true. We're not talking about historically factual accounts, we're talking about mythology passed down from the winners. As a result, the primary evidence has to be the Iconian base discovered in the year 2365 by Captain Jean Luc Picard. Judging from the fact that there were no offensive weapons found, I'd say the evidence supports more the claim that the Iconians were relatively peaceful rather than warlike conquerors."

McAdams sighed, "Perhaps it was only because the more offensive weapons had already given out and failed. However, for the moment, I'll concede the point. We can't know exactly which account is true, but we can recognize the morals of the story. The Prime Directive is something which was set in place to protect us and if we discard it, we risk great catastrophe. Now then, I think it's time we moved on towards some more recent history which supports these facts. I begin by asking how much you know about Klingon History."

L

Amanda Rogers. He read over the name briefly and studied the profile that went with it. He still remembered his encounter with the young humanoid whose mind was a mystery even to him. According to the profile, she was a human, born on Earth, orphaned as an enfant. At some level, he realized, her record was not entirely accurate. No human was unreadable as she was. Somewhere, somehow, she was different.

Kyran Stann considered what he had learned as he disconnected from database and stepped away from the terminal. He had come here, hoping to learn more about the person whose mind he had been unable to read. She had left him with only a face, but nothing to go with it, and he had left with even more questions then he had before. Nevertheless, even without her extraordinary mental abilities, she was a very unique and extraordinary individual, even by Starfleet standards.

The Betazed prodigy looked at the closed door, considering whether he would have to live in isolation his entire life or if, with this young woman's help, he might one day achieve some semblance of inner peace.

L

"You're out of your mind!" Nait exclaimed, an expression of utter horror on his face.

"Oh come on," Serra replied, "You can't be so stolid your entire life. Where will you get in life if you never took any risks? What kind of officer would you be if you never played it safe?"

Naiton Lang shook his head, "Serra, what you're talking about is crazy. If you get caught doing this, they'll throw you out of the Academy!"

"If I got caught," she replied smugly, "Nait, you worry too much. I haven't gotten caught yet…"

"Never mind that, you're past success holds no guarantees on the future. Besides, what is it that drives you to take this risk? It's not like there's anything to gain from it."

Serra was silent for a few minutes, trying to sort a series of conflicting thoughts and emotions, before she answered his question. "Curiosity."

He shook his head, "You do realize what you might lose if you go through with this?"

She grimaced at his words and shook her head. She wasn't throwing anything away. After all, what could she throw away when she had nothing to attain in the first place?

"Serra, you don't have to do this. You shouldn't do this. It's reckless… it's stupid, damn it! Don't."

She turned towards him, seeing the desperation on his face and sighed. Nait worried too much. Then again, however, in his case it very much could have been a virtue.

"Nait, don't worry about me. Everything will be fine."

And with those words, Serra Caranis typed in a password, and with step, she had hacked into the Starfleet Academy database, intent on finding out her query of choice. As she did so, finding and accessing the Academy's prepared Final Examinations, Naiton Lang could no longer watch, and so he turned around, and let her commit academic suicide. He had tried to make her see reason, but once again, his efforts had come up short. Whether she would ever come to her senses, or get expelled first, was a choice entirely up to her, and deep down, he suspected she'd choose the later before the former even entered her mind.

Thirty minutes later, she shut her investigation down and flashed him a smile. "See?" she told him, "I told you nothing would come out of it."

Nait shook his head as the two made their way out of the dorms and into the campus beyond. Neither had any idea that this time she had made a mistake and this time, there would be consequences.

A/N: Thanks for the reviews. Lunatic Pandora: a very interesting possibility arises there but, at the moment at least, she does have a high degree of control over her more active powers and I plan on taking this story down other directions. Nevertheless, a very inciteful suggestion that I might consider in the future. At the moment, however, the real conflict lies in the temptation connected with such power and her antagonism towards the Q invoked by her parents' executions. Anyway, thanks to all who review. Please keep it up (as a sidenote, reviews do motivate me to write and update faster...)


	7. Consequences

VII: Consequences

"Humans, I can't understand what you two see in them," Quentin fumed. He would have been pacing had he taken a corporeal form but, fortunately for his Q-inspired sense of dignity, he had not, "They're so… limited."

"Don't blame me," Q replied, "I tried to convince Amanda otherwise but she was just so stubborn. Besides, you're not exactly doing a stellar job either."

"Blame you?" Amanda's current tempter replied fumingly, "How can I not blame you? She was your responsibility to begin with, and had you just once lived up to your own sense of personal self-importance, these incessant games wouldn't even be necessary. I'm here trying to clean up your mistakes. Never forget that."

"Aren't you upset?" Q replied, "Funny: I thought we had evolved past such emotions long ago. It seems your time among the humans is beginning to adversely affect you."

Quentin scoffed at the notion, "A bit ironic that you bring up such an accusation. I watched your little tantrums on the Enterprise…"

"I was stripped of my powers," Q replied offended.

"I wasn't talking about that time," Quentin replied, a dangerous gleam in his eye. His fellow omnipotent responded with a moment of silence before deciding to turn the conversation towards different channels.

"She's doing quite well regardless," Q pointed out, "In a few more decades, she may be sitting in a captain's chair. Imagine the games we could play."

Quentin sent Q a cold glare, "She made a deal with the Continuum, and I don't think the others would look kindly on you antagonizing her against us. She may have separated herself from the collective, but she's still far more powerful than just about anything else in this universe."

Q laughed, "Come now, Q. You're no fun. Always focusing on the rules. And to think, they can be trivial at times… you've got to eventually start thinking outside the box. After all, conventional thinking only takes us so far."

"What are you suggesting?" Quentin asked.

"Me?" Q answered, "Nothing in particular. Only that you start playing this more creatively. If you can't successfully tempt her, perhaps a different solution would suffice."

Quentin was silent for a moment, mulling over the possibilities, "This isn't as easy a task as I originally would have thought."

Q noted the irony in Quentin's predicament, "It's funny: how difficult things can be for omnipotents such as ourselves."

"Indeed," Quentin agreed, still deep in thought, "How do you entice someone into accepting something they detest? Q, knowing your reputation, I suspect you'd have some insight into this predicament. Trickery, after all, always was your specialty…"

"Not this time Q," Q replied, clearly enjoying himself. "I don't remember you helping me in my times of need. Why then, may I ask, should I take the effort to assist you in yours?"

Quentin shook his head and observed, quite in a cold tone of voice, "Vindictive as ever, I see."

"But of course," Q replied, "I'm omniscient. I never forget a slight. Well Quentin, good luck, and by the way, I'll be looking forward to your own trial. We both know how impatient the Continuum can be."

"You'll enjoy that, won't you?" Quentin replied, flashing out.

Q watched as his brother departed, "It's not that I'll enjoy it, but it's a moment I'll be sure to savor."

L

Admiral Russell Stentson looked over the records, feeling a simultaneous mixture of disappointment and disturbance as he did so. Ever since the beginning of the previous year, the Academy's database had been hacked repeatedly, often for frivolous purposes. The perpetrator almost seemed to be doing it as some part of a game. For what reason, he could not even guess. Perhaps it was boredom that motivated these activities; perhaps it was the presence of a challenge. He, himself, could relate to the second motive: he had, on numerous occasions, taken dangerous risks in various attempts, foolhardily vain in nature, to prove his own abilities and valor. Nevertheless, as much as this possibility caught his interest, it was just as possible that the perpetrator possessed self destructive properties. For all he knew, this person could even be a spy. Nevertheless, the person behind all this had proven to be sufficiently skilled and extremely intelligent. In the nearly one and a half years that this individual had been at large, not once were they able to fully track it all the way back. Instead, they were only able to uncover traces of the crimes: subtle clues that could give no insight into who actually committed them.

However, no one could keep gambling with destiny and continue winning every hand. In his youth, his rash actions had led to numerous setbacks and even a few defeats. Now the perpetrator, Cadet Serra Caranis, would learn this same lesson. Unfortunately, while his mistakes were acceptable, hers were not, and she would not be given that second chance of redemption.

After reading through her file, he closed it slowly, somewhat disappointed with how things had gone. The girl had been undisciplined and arrogant, but she also possessed incredible intelligence and, based on the scope of her transgression, a form of courage that, though manifested in an unsavory way, existed nevertheless. She could have made an extraordinary officer, had things been different. Instead, her impetuousness would cost her everything, and she'd have to live out the rest of her life in mediocrity.

L

Larissa Stevenson looked over her test results, an unsettling disappointment building in the pit of her stomach. She had known, even while answering the questions, that the material was beyond her, but still, she couldn't accept it. Nevertheless, the answer was in front of her now, in plain sight, and even she had to recognize its signficicance. Where her siblings had succeeded, she had failed. Perhaps she just wasn't cut out for Starfleet.

Perhaps, if she worked harder, studied more… Larissa shook her head. She had already been working herself to the limits. Perhaps that was why she had failed: the stress had gotten to her. She quietly laughed in spite of her failure; she laughed at herself. It was the stress. She had let it get to her and overwhelm her. However, stress was a constant at Starfleet. She gathered herself as best she could, for if she hadn't been laughing, she would have been in tears, and Larissa wasn't one for weeping. Her dreams had been tarnished and her self confidence was destroyed.

The Starfleet failure knew now that she would be leaving soon, resigning her position in the Academy to seek other goals. Without speaking, she deactivated the console and, after a slight moment of hesitation, left the classroom behind, making her way to the gym instead. It was moments like this that she particularly felt a need for a work out.

L

He hurried, his face looking down at the ground, as he made his way, trying his best to ignore the barrage of thoughts that was assaulting him from every angle. All he could think about was safety. The safety in isolation: the safety of being alone; separated from others, hearing no thoughts of his own. He hurried along the walking path, his mind in turmoil and confusion. It was always like this. He was either thirsting in blissful isolation or drowning in the company of others. And to think, there were those who called his telepathy a gift.

So introverted was he that he didn't even notice his surroundings until he collided with another pedestrian like him. He looked up hesitatingly to find another cadet staring down at him, a cold glare in his eyes. Kyran Stann instinctively inched away from the other man, but he continued to observe him, his eyes dissecting the Betazed and his mind passing judgment.

Kyran could tell, now that his mind was instinctively focused on the other man, that this person's psyche was dominated by pride, arrogance and an above average trace of aggression. At that moment, however, there was a fourth factor overshadowing the others: revulsion. The Betazed could feel the man tear him apart in his mind and he could see what impression he had made. Kyran sighed in spite of himself, it was only natural that people responded this way in his presence. To call him abnormal, in his own case, would be an understatement.

After what seemed like an alternative, the other individual broke his gaze and walked away, leaving Kyran behind. The telepath breathed a sigh of relief, hoping he'd never have another such encounter again. However, in his heart, he knew that such was a false hope. Most people reacted to him in that manner. It was just that this time, the negative sentiments were concentrated as rarely before.

At that moment of clarity, a name came unbidden into Kyran's mind: Keerick. He sighed, recognizing that name immediately, and knowing to whom it belonged. The man he had bumped into, the man whose glare had been so full of hateful superiority and revulsion, was a member of Nova Squadron, and one of the most socially powerful cadets on campus.

Finally, he recovered himself, and rose from the ground, not bothering to wipe off the dirt. Instead, he immediately continued his path to the library, but after a few moments, he stopped and looked around. Silence. It made no sense but it was nevertheless apparent. He watched the other cadets walk past yet he could not hear their thoughts. He was actually alone. His thoughts, however, were cut short as he heard a voice, both outside and inside, of his own head.

"You know, some people have called prodigies overrated. Watching you makes me deign to agree."

Kyran looked around, surprised and confused. He had heard someone speaking to him, masculine from the sound of it, though he couldn't see anyone nearby.

"Very observant," the voice both inside and outside his head stated with some semblance of approval, "Especially considering how out of touch you strive to be from the world around you."

Kyran's response came in barely a whisper, "Who… are you?"

"A fair question," the voice replied in a clipped tone, "But, alas, the subject of today's conversation is not me, but you."

Kyran shook his head stubbornly as he made his way forward again, "I would disagree. You, at least for the moment, healed my affliction. How did you do it?"

The voice in his head chuckled for a moment, almost as if he was playing with him, "I'm sorry, but charity was never in my interest. Now, onto other matters…"

"How did you do it!?" Kyran yelled, desperation screaming from every semblance of his thought. After a moment, he recovered himself, and looked around, only to find himself the center of attention. Whispered mockeries caught his ears but he largely ignored it. As much as he hated being the center of attention, the discomfort was, for the moment, trumped by the silence that was present within his own psyche. Finally, he repeated himself, this time speaking only to the voice within his mind, '_How did you do it?_'

"Ah, the Betazed is curious I can tell. Well, I can relate to your desperation so I'll let you in on a secret. I believe you've met someone. Someone very special. Like me, she has certain abilities. I believe you should know this but, if she wanted to, she could inhibit, or even remove, your telepathy with little effort at all."

"Who are you talking about?" the prodigy asked, hope, desperation, and fear mixing all together within both his conscious and subconscious mind.

The voice in his head replied, in a smug tone of voice, "It's a young blonde girl. Trust me, you'd remember her. She's the only person in that mess you call the Academy who is immune to your telepathy."

"Amanda?"

The voice replied, with great satisfaction, "Yes. That's what she calls herself: Amanda. Good luck, Kyran Stann. I'll be keeping an eye on you, and I hope that she, too, will be able to relate to your predicament."

It began with a trickle, but steadily increased and, in agony, the Betazed screamed, covering his ears in a vain attempt to keep the thoughts out. Still, they came: unsummoned and unbidden. Nevertheless, a single name kept repeating itself within the very depths of his mind. Amanda.

Quentin terminated the link, a smug satisfaction flowing from his entire being. Q had suggested that he think outside the box, and if temptation didn't work, perhaps he could force the young Q to accept her true nature. It was a gamble, but he viewed it as a necessary one. Amanda had to come to grips with what she truly was. If she remained in this dream of humanity, only tragedy could result.


	8. Dreaming

VIII: Dreaming

Big blue eyes looked up towards smiling, laughing faces. She immediately recognized them: her parents. Amanda knew this was a dream but, at the same time, she suspected that it was something more as well. Still an enfant, she crawled across the floor, making her way towards her mother's waiting arms. Was this a memory? True, humans didn't generally retain memories from such an early stage but, then again, she wasn't exactly human. Knowing the faculties and abilities of the Q then, it was entirely possible that this was a memory: one of her infancy. One of her parents.

At the same time, however, it was a dream. She knew she was dreaming and she also knew that she could leave the dream at any time. However, she did not wish to leave the dream. Her parents were dead in the waking world, executed by their own people; by her own people.

She had never gotten to know them in real life. They had been killed before she had had a chance to. Amanda absently contemplated what could have been; what would have been if the Q weren't so unforgiving.

At that moment, the dream morphed. Now she was seven, lying on he back upon a vast field, looking out into the night sky. Her parents sat beside her, gazing up into the beautiful darkness, laughing and smiling as they took in the wonders of the cosmos. It was a memory that she knew she had never possessed, but it seemed completely genuine and natural.

Her eyes gazed up into the sky and, for a moment, it seemed as if she had seen more. The twinkle of a distant star had suddenly seemed to explode in a sea of colors and perceptions. Immediately, her head began to jar and she screamed out in pain. Amanda's parents immediately took notice of her distress, and she spent the next few moments with her head cradled in her mother's arms while the migraine slowly subsided. Was this what might have been? Was this what should have been?

No, she shook her head, recalling the memory. That part was real. That moment, when her perceptions exploded and, for a brief moment, she saw everything had actually happened. Immediately, her age shifted from seven to eighteen in recognition of the moment's importance. It had happened while she was roughly halfway through her seventeenth year and it was the moment when her true nature first began to manifest. One moment of profound understanding quickly yielded way to an extended period of fear and confusion. However, in the dream she was not alone in facing it.

Her parents were Q as well, and they were helping her through this moment, teaching her what it meant, and helping her begin to control it. What had been, in her actual life, a troubling and trying period was, in the dream, one of great wonder and discovery.

And then, once again, she was seven, running forward, through the fields, unaware of her surroundings. It was a moment of blissful innocence, a return to simpler times. As she ran free and happy, however, she tripped on a rock and fell to the ground, her knee skinned. In pain, she cried, calling for her parents, distressed to find they were no longer listening.

Her eyes searched them out and quickly found them, staring at her, unmoving, unhelpful. They merely stood there, the anguish clear in their wide, terrified eyes. She called to them, but still they made no move. And then, a gust of wind raged around her and, for a brief moment, she closed her eyes and braced herself against its power. When she opened her eyes again, she was alone, and seventeen again. She was alone, as she had been. The dream was now reflecting reality.

Her parents were gone, swept up by the Q, punished because they cared. She slowly rose from the ground and stared up in the sky, her eyes moist with tears. Desperate, she called for them, wishing she could bring them back. All the while, her wishes were ineffective.

"You've made a choice," her father's voice spoke down to her from the heavens above, "Between unlimited power and humanity. Whether or not your choice was the correct one is not important. Rather, remember that it had been your own. As you enter into the future be sure that all your decisions are ones you make yourself. It was not the first choice you have been faced with, and it will not be the last you will be subjected to. In many respects, your most difficult choice still lies ahead."

"What do you mean?" Amanda asked the voice in the sky but she knew she would not receive her answer.

"It is not for mortals to know," her mother's voice spoke from beneath her, in the Earth, "You chose humanity. You chose the joys of discovery as well as the distress of uncertainty. Your choice does not allow for easy answers. Remember, we made the same choice you did, and be sure to keep our own decision in mind. Be sure to remember our fate when considering your own."

Amanda nodded as she recalled what Q had told her: they had been assassinated by the Q. They were weak against their temptation, and she was determined not to make that same mistake. She would find a way to ignore temptation, and live the kind of life she had desired all her life.

Contented, she looked up towards the sky and found thunder clouds to be building above her. Then, moments later, a flash of lightning fell down towards her. The Q would never stop trying to tempt her, she told herself as the electricity channeled through her young body, electrocuting her. She could not allow them to win.

And then, she awoke hyperventilating, her teary eyes wide with shock. Immediately, her mind processed the contents of the dream and her own analysis of it. She did not know what the dream constituted, but Amanda was certain that it was more than just a normal dream. She pulled herself up out of bed slowly, still trying to get her bearings about. Perhaps the worst thing wasn't the content of the dream, but its importance. She knew she had had it for a reason, but this message it construed was something she could only for the moment guess at.

L

Serra frowned as she took a seat between Amanda and Ethan. Immediately, however, she noticed that something about the blonde haired prodigy didn't seem quite right. Her friend appeared far more introverted then usual, and the troubled impression on her face suggested that whatever she was concentrating on was something decidedly unpleasant.

"Are you all right?" she finally asked, "You look as if you're struggling with something."

"Don't bother her," Ethan replied, "I've been trying to get through to her for the last ten minutes and she hasn't even responded."

"You've been waiting in an empty room for ten minutes?" Serra asked Amanda surprised before turning back towards Ethan, "I always had you down for a go-getter in these regards, but with Amanda, I must say I'm surprised."

"She came before I did," Ethan drawled in response, "Part of me wonders if she got any sleep last night."

"I didn't," Amanda replied before amending her statement, "Well, not much anyway."

"Really, what happened?" Serra asked.

"A dream," Amanda replied tersely, "A very realistic one."

"A nightmare," Serra agreed, "Strange though; they usually don't linger this long."

She spent the remaining few minutes before class trying to pry more from her friend about this matter but Amanda remained silent. Finally, Serra gave up on the matter, noticing as the professor entered the class and began accessing files from the computer. Besides, she had her own problems to attend to. The Academy Commandant had issued her a summons for later that day and Serra figured that, for the moment, her primary worries would best be focused on this issue.

Still, as her attention briefly drifted towards Amanda one last time, she couldn't help but get the impression that her problems and, even stranger, her entire existence was miniscule in comparison. It was a troubling thought but Serra quickly dismissed it. Whatever was troubling Amanda was most likely something trivial. Try as she might, however, she couldn't entirely convince herself that this was true.

L

Nait remained silent, focused on his own concerns, as he weaved his way through the crowd of cadets that inevitably formed in the intervals between classes. One concern was circulating over and over again in his mind: they had been discovered. He and Serra were in an engineering class together when he found out about it. The Commandant wanted to speak with her. He feared that this turn of events could only mean one thing: she had been caught and would very likely be expelled for it.

"Nait," he heard a familiar voice call from behind him and he turned around, for a moment relatively aware of his surroundings.

"Ethan," he greeted as he looked over his friend's expression. A look of concern seemed etched on the British man's face. Nait shook his head, judging from this expression that Welcher had found out about Serra's recent difficulties, "So I take it you heard?"

"About what?" Ethan asked, his expression growing even more serious, "Come to think about it, you look pretty out of it as well. If I didn't know better, I would suspect that something contagious had struck the Academy."

"What do you mean?" Nait asked, his concern growing.

"Don't try to cover for yourself," the other replied, "You were completely spaced out a moment ago, lost in your own concerns."

"I know that. Look, a lot has happened recently… Wait, is Serra alright?"

Ethan shook his head, feigning disappointment, "It's always about Serra with you, isn't it? Trust me. Serra is perfectly fine, or at least as fine as she can be. It's Amanda I'm worried about."

"What happened to her?"

"I don't know the details," Ethan replied, quietly stepping forward with his arms crossed. Finally, after a moment's pause, he added, "Amanda had some kind of dream, and it must have been a pretty bad one since she's been shaken up about it all day. I don't know the details, no one really does, but she's more distant than normal."

Nait shook his head, "I don't quite see why someone would take so badly to something as simple as a dream. Are you sure that's all that's going on?"

"As I said," the red headed Englishman answered as he overtook Naiton and walked ahead, "She hasn't told me the details. In fact, to the best of my knowledge, she hasn't really spoken to anyone about it."

"Her own burden to bear," Naiton replied in understanding.

"That's a good way to put it," Ethan agreed, waiting for Nait to catch up, "You seem to be pretty observant in these kinds of things."

"I can empathize."

The freshman nodded knowingly, "Serra."

"Indeed," his academic senior replied, "She's put me through more bouts of insanity than I suspect any dream could. Then again, I've never really had one that affecting. Perhaps she needs some kind of counseling."

Ethan chuckled, "Hypocrisy suits you. I've given you that same advice numerous times on your own doomed obsession."

"That's a pretty harsh assessment," Nait tried to defend himself, though it was not quite as affective as he might have wanted it to be. He himself didn't have the certainty to contest the charge.

"But true. Serra is like a warp core, my friend: stunningly brilliant yet remarkably unstable. You'd best be careful. Part of me fears that it's only a matter of time before she explodes, and you might go down with her."

Nait chuckled in spite of it, "I don't think you need to fear that anymore. I think she might already have self destructed."

Hearing this statement froze Ethan in his tracks and he turned around, staring Nait in the eyes. Glacial were his eyes and frosty was his voice as he spoke, "What has she done?"

"She got caught," Nait replied, his eyes on the ground and his voice sheepish, "I tried to stop her."

Ethan shook his head and released a loud sigh, "I knew this was going to happen. Let me guess, one of her hacks was traced?"

"I don't know yet," Nait answered. His voice had become suddenly distant.

Ethan shook his head, exasperated, "What do you mean you don't know yet? Hasn't she told you?"

Nait shook his head, "She received the Summons for later today. We won't be reporting there for a while still, so I suppose I'll find out then."

Nait tried to walk away but Ethan stopped him, and responded, in a belligerent tone, "What do you mean, you'll fine out then? Don't tell me you're going to be taking the fall for her?"

Nait sighed and looked skyward, "I don't know."

Ethan shook his head, seeing right through his friend's lie, "Oh, you know exactly what you're planning. Nait, it's a wasted effort. You won't win her affections this way and you won't be rescuing her future either. If you save her today, she'll just screw up again next time, and you won't be there to bail her out then. You'll be throwing away everything, and for nothing."

"What can I say?" Nait replied as he walked ahead, "I can't let her lose everything, especially when she hasn't even found her purpose yet."

Ethan shook his head, "There's no getting through to you either?"

Nait shook his head, "What can I say? I'm a hopeless romantic."

Ethan nodded and watched as his friend walked off.

"If you really are going to go through with this," the read headed freshman said to his senior, "Make sure that you don't regret it later."

Nait nodded and raised his hand in appreciation. Still, Ethan received no response. He could only watch as his friend prepared to throw his life away in pursuit of a hopeless infatuation.

L

Admiral Russell Stentson was thoroughly surprised when he returned to his office to find that one of the cadets had actually requested to speak with him. He tapped his communicator with his response, "Send him in. I'm pretty interested to see what's so important myself."

He leaned back in his chair and studied the person who entered through the doors. Dark haired, with blue eyes, he was small of statue and pale of skin. No, Stentson corrected himself, he wasn't necessarily pale as much as he was flushed. A closer inspection told him that the cadet's hair was matted with sweat and that his knees were shaking. The boy was nervous to say the least. Stentson smiled knowingly. It was not the kind of reaction he was unused to receiving.

"Name?" he asked, "And please, there's no need to be so nervous. I'm sure you'll find I'm a relatively fair man to deal with." Stentson beckoned towards a second chair placed in front of his desk facing him, "Please, take a seat."

"Naiton Lang," the cadet answered before settling in the seat. After a moment's pause, he quite stiffly added, "Thank you, sir."

"Not at all," the Starfleet Commandant replied, "This is relatively standard procedure. Of course, it's quite unusual to see people come into this office on their own accord but it's not entirely unheard of. So, tell me Naiton, what brings you here?"

Nait paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts. Stentson could almost see the psychological flight versus fight conflict manifest in his eyes. Every aspect of his body language screamed of a desire to run, to forget about whatever it was that had brought him here, yet he overruled these desires, seemingly via willpower alone.

"No need to be scared," Stentson stated, trying to ease the younger man but to no avail, "Just spit it out."

Finally, after what seemed as almost an eternity, the cadet spoke, "How much do you know about Serra Caranis, sir?"

"I know a fair deal," the Admiral replied, placing his hands on his desk and looking Nait directly in the eyes, reading his behavior even more carefully, "I know she's been quite involved with hacking, and I know that such activities do not bode well towards any future in Starfleet."

After a lengthy pause, Nait spoke again. Nervously, he said, "What if I told you that Serra's innocent of such activities?"

This statement interested the admiral as he leaned forward. His eyes almost seemed to gleam, "Now, why would you say something like that."

Finally, Nait admitted his lie, "Because I did the hackings. She didn't know anything about what was going on, and I didn't think I would get us caught."

Stentson narrowed his eyes, suspicion drawn on his face. He clearly did not trust this admittance, "Unlikely. For one thing, your story contradicts itself. The very fact that you committed these crimes in her name suspects that you knew full well of the possibility of failure, and that you intended for her to take the fall. As such, I would find it very unlikely that you would come to me admitting all this. It just doesn't follow."

Nait looked down towards the ground, "Well, I guess I was a bit impetuous but when I found out about what had happened, I couldn't keep silent. I know this is difficult to believe bet…"

"You're a horrible liar," the admiral replied, his voice cold and distant, "I can see right through this charade of yours. No, I think we can be pretty certain that Serra is the culprit, and you're merely trying to take the fall. So the question, Naiton Lang, is this: why are you doing so? Answer me honestly. I can tell when you're lying."

"Because," Nait replied, the words seeming to stretch out indefinitely, "Because I love her."

"I see," Stentson replied leaning back in his chair, "And I would assume that this is why you are here right now?"

"Yes sir," Nait replied.

The commandant nodded, "You know, your attempt to mislead the chain of command is an offence as well. Tell me then: are you really willing to throw away your career for her?"

"Yes sir."

"So be it," Stentson finalized, "I cannot help but note your conduct is unbecoming of a Starfleet Officer. As an individual, you are selfish, willing to defy regulations in the pursuit of your own interests. I'm sorry to say that such sentiments speak against your potential as a Starfleet officer. I don't know whether to admire or pity you Naiton. Congratulations are in order, however. You came to get yourself expelled and you have."

Nait grimaced but he had been expecting this moment since he had first entered the office. However, with some hesitation, he posed a simple question: "What about Serra sir?"

The admiral was silent for a few moments before he answered the question. "Well, considering all that you gave up for her, it would be rather cruel of me to expel her as well. Besides, her record shows enormous potential. As a result, I think I'm inclined to overlook her transgressions; for the moment at least."

"Thank you sir," Nait replied, rising from the chair.

"One more thing," the admiral intoned as the former cadet prepared to leave, "Be sure to tell her this before you depart: our eyes are opened and we will not give her another chance. You are dismissed."

L

Serra paused as she noticed a familiar figure approach her, his head down and his body language negative.

"Nait?" she called and he looked up at her, his eyes devoid of his normal youth and energy.

"Serra," he replied, "We need to talk."

"About what?" she asked walking near him.

"About the future," Nait answered, "Please, try to become a respectable cadet. I won't be here to bail you out again."

"What do you mean?" she asked watching as he turned his back to her to leave. Slowly, recognition creeped into her face, "You didn't…"

"You needn't speak with the Commandant now," he replied, his back still turned away from her.

"But why?"

He paused, struggling with an answer. Finally, in an almost tone of voice, he stated, "If you don't know now, you'll never understand."

He turned around, not giving her a chance to interrupt, "Serra, I gave up my future for you. One of us had to leave Starfleet. One of us had to sacrifice our dreams."

"But…"

"No," he interrupted, "You do have a future here, somewhere. You might not have found it yet but it is still there. I'm certain of it. I gave up my dreams for you. All I ask in return is that you search for one of your own rather then continue down this path of nihilistic self destruction. Succeed Serra, and continue dreaming where I cannot."

And then Nait turned around one last time and walked off, his impassionate face hiding an almost depressive sorrow within. He had given up on his goals in the hopes that she would find hers.

Serra Caranis watched him leave, a similar sorrow settling in her heart as well. Slowly, that sorrow transformed into fortitude. He had sacrificed much for her and, at some level, she suspected that she owed it to him to keep going. The Starfleet prodigy turned away from Nait no longer conflicted, no longer confused. She still had the opportunity to achieve something and, for the first time in a long time, she felt a desire to do so.

Nait had given up almost everything for her. The least Serra could do, in exchange, was to start dreaming in his place.


End file.
